A House Of Many Rooms
by Lothiriel84
Summary: "You were there in my mind palace, telling me what to do." - Spoilers for 3x03. Do NOT read unless you've watched the episode. The title is a reference to the namesake song by Mike & The Mechanics.


Idiot. He'd been a bloody idiot, thinking that Moriarty wouldn't go after her now.

His heart went still as he heard her panicked voice come through the phone.

_"Sherlock, he's here."_

He almost jumped in front of a cab, promised the cabbie a substantial tip if he drove to Barts as fast as he could. Lestrade bolted out of a police car a moment later, and they rushed into the building without as much as waiting for backup.

They stopped dead in their tracks when they spotted Molly slumped on the floor, still clutching a scalpel in her hand. Jim Moriarty was lying beside her, blood pooling around him on the floor.

It was Lestrade that leaned over to check his pulse, quite unnecessarily given the stab wound to his neck.

"He's dead. He really is this time."

Sherlock barely heeded him, as he crouched beside Molly and gently removed the scalpel from her grasp. She was clearly in shock, and he needed to snap her out of it.

"It's alright, Molly. Everything is going to be alright."

He met Lestrade's gaze over the dead body, and the Inspector gave him a slight nod.

"Let's get you home, shall we?" he said as cheerfully as he could fake. "I'm sure that Scotland Yard is perfectly capable to handle this."

xxx

She was shaking horribly by the time he got her into her flat. Toby mewled pitifully when he found himself unable to attract her attention, and Sherlock had to shoo him away as he manoeuvred her to the sofa.

By the time he was back with a freshly brewed cup of coffee – with three sugars in it for good measure – Toby had climbed onto her lap, and she was petting him with trembling hands.

"Am I a murderer?" she whispered at last, her eyes round with fear and guilt.

"No, you're not. Me, on the other hand – I've shot a man in cold blood not so long ago."

She paused, wrapping her hands around the mug. He could tell that this unfortunate accident was going to haunt her for the rest of her days, though she would hopefully learn to live with it in time.

"He was standing in front of me, staring at me with that crazy look of his. And he had a gun. I couldn't – I just couldn't go through it all again."

"I know. I am sorry."

"Wasn't your fault."

"Lestrade says he'll call in some favours. They'll rule it out as self-defence. It _was_ self-defence."

He took the mug out of her hands when she started sobbing at last. Crying was good, it would help her release the stress.

They stayed there for the rest of the evening, huddled together until she eventually fell asleep.

xxx

"Jim thought I wasn't capable of this. _Poor, gullible Molly wouldn't hurt me_, that's what he said."

"You were his blind spot, the only person he never bothered to work out."

A psychopath like Moriarty couldn't understand good, honest people. Loyalty meant nothing to the consulting criminal, he'd never truly cared for another human being but himself.

Mycroft was wrong, caring for people could be an advantage sometimes.

Now he knew why he liked Molly. Redbeard, of course. She was clumsy and friendly, and fiercely loyal too – just like his beloved dog, the one he used to have as a child.

That reminded him of something else, something he had never told her before.

"You saved my life, you know."

"I did – what?"

"When I got shot, you were there in my mind palace, telling me what to do."

"That wasn't me."

"It has always been you. Ever since you slapped me on the face that day at the lab."

The ghost of a smile flickered across her face. "You deserved that."

"I told you, it was for a case. I don't do drugs anymore."

"You'd better not. I quite enjoyed slapping you, so that you know."

A wicked smirk crept to his lips. "Don't tempt me, Dr Hooper."

"Or what?" she said defiantly, and he silenced her with a kiss.

xxx

Intimacy had been a challenge with the Woman, and a necessary evil with Janine. However, there was nothing of the kind with Molly.

She could see him, and cared for him. That was all that mattered right now.

John would die of shock if he told him he was considering the idea of a proper relationship, whatever that meant. Not that he was actually planning to tell him, it was much funnier letting him guess for a while.

Until Mary figured out his secret, that was. She'd always been smarter than John, and that was a trait he truly appreciated about her.

He was tracing the side of her neck with his lips – and he had to admit this felt better than any drugs he'd ever taken – when Molly placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away.

"What about Janine?" she asked quite breathlessly, and he frowned.

"Sorry, who?"

"Your – _girlfriend_, Sherlock."

"I needed access to Magnussen's office," he replied by way of an explanation.

"And what is it exactly that you need from me?"

"You. Just you."


End file.
